


Tomorrow Never Dies

by traveler_spawn



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Revenge, Violence, Warlords, listen the dark ages weren't what you call friendly, snarky warlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveler_spawn/pseuds/traveler_spawn
Summary: The story of a Warlord, who before and during the rise of the Iron Lords, dared to try and bring what order she could to the Dark Ages. (in progress)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	1. Family Myths [past]

**Author's Note:**

> (Was actually pretty leery of posting this, but figured why the hell not. Please be forewarned, there is quite a bit of theorycraft ahead--and the chapters are not going to be in chronological order. Rather I post them as past (Golden Age)/present (Dark Age) views--and will warn of the time shift.)
> 
> (This was basically my mind going 'what if?'. We have some evidence that Shaxx acted as a enforcer of Risen during the Dark Ages, so I figured why couldn't have other Risen done the same? Then my mind went mad on James Bond theme songs, Russian history, and...I give you this.)

_Golden Age  
St. Petersburg, Russia_

———-

“I am Major General Kostya Sokolova of the Russian Aerospace Defense Forces. I have been in space long before you were an itch in your father’s testicles and a pain in your mother’s ovaries, you tit-milk sucking jumped up little shit. Do not presume that just because you bought your way into the Committee for State Security that everyone will kowtow to you as if you’re the fucking Czar. You threaten me that nobody will ever find my body? I know the cleaners and where the bodies are already buried. Now remove your fucking infantile ass from my sight so I can speak to the actual fucking adult in the room.”

Silence reigned, then was broken by the sound of Mikhael storming out of the interrogation room. Desperate snickers could be heard from the soldiers present. Giving into temptation, because why the fuck not, Admiral Petrov ever so gently rested his forehead on the table.

“ _ **Kostya**_.” Across from Petrov, Kostya lifted her cigarette back to her lips. She leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs.

“What?”

“I can understand you going for his balls…” Here, Petrov lifted his head so he could gaze at Kostya, chin still on the table. “But did you really have to go for the full castration?” The comment resulted in the other soldiers cracking up, and Petrov let them. When it came to his former co-cosmonaut, all rules went out the window. Kostya smirked, blowing out a plume of smoke.

“Traveler, the Committee’s scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren’t they?” She commented, the smirk now evident in her voice.

“Kostya.” Petrov repeated, his tone aggrieved.

“What? You know this is true.” Kostya snapped back. “Thirty? For fuck’s sake, he’s still in apron-strings!”

“The Americans in the old days used to recruit out of college.” Petrov pointed out. 

“Still an infant.”

“So says the one who was still in the womb when she joined the Aerospace-” Petrov trailed off at the dagger-sharp glare Kostya was giving him. “I can still court-martial you, _Major General_.”

“Please try.” Kostya retorted. She took another drag of her cigarette. “For fuck’s sake Petrov, what the hell? I get dragged out of my nice warm bed by the mewling infant fuckwit’s goons, I’ve not had any coffee or breakfast, my ankle fucking hurts–is this about the bunker? I’ve already explained it again and again!” She quieted, and Petrov sat up. At a gesture, the soldiers snapped back to attention, and then left the the interrogation room. As the door shut, then sealed itself, Petrov exhaled.

“There are reports the Warmind is acting strangely.” He said. Kostya paused mid-drag, eyes widening. “Rumors, but recent activity is leading some in Moscow to believe they are fact.” Reaching into a pocket, he withdrew a tablet-scroll. Activating the device, he slid it over to Kostya, who accepted it with her free hand. 

“This is the Bikanor-2 Cosmodrone.” She said, looking at the pictures flashing on the screen. 

“Da.” Petrov said. “The Warmind seems to have concentrated activity going on in the region. But what…we don’t know.” He leaned forward, eyes fixed on Kostya. “The hope was that possibly…”  
  
“I might have seen or heard something in the bunker.” Kostya finished. She exhaled, still watching the photos cross the tablet’s screen. “How long has this been going on?”

“We don’t know. Moscow is trying to decide on a course of action. It is the reason for…” Petrov gestured. “All of this. That bunker you ended up in after the attack was being watched.” Kostya set down the tablet, lifting the cigarettes back to her lips and taking a deep drag. 

“…It was as I said it was. One of his frames pulled me to safety, let me at least do basic first-aid on myself. We talked while he sent the broadcast signal for my rescue, and as I was leaving, I left him a thank-you present for saving my life.” She said.   
  
“What did you talk about?” Petrov asked. Kostya considered her former co-worker and ex-lover, exhaling smoke.

“…I told him that in our family, there is a story of how his namesake actually brought us fortune.” She answered. Petrov tilted his head, curious-and Kostya continued. “It’s said during the time of the Romanovs, the matriarch of our clan had a meeting with the Mad Monk. He gave her two pieces of advice, one of which was that the family would prosper in France. When the Revolution happened, she heeded his advice, got the family to France, where they became even more wealthy and powerful than they’d ever been.” Kostya took another inhalation from the cigarette, then blew out the smoke through her nose. “When the rescue arrived, I left him the brooch I’d been wearing–a family treasure. Couldn’t repay the original Rasputin, and it’d probably be bad fortune if I didn’t repay the debt to this one.”


	2. Two Iron Lords and a Warlord [present]

Acid rain made for strange bedfellows, Felwinter mused. He and Jolder had been on a mission-to deal with the local sector’s Warlord. It had been simple enough-inform the Risen of the Iron Lords, offer him the choice, submit or die. Skorri had elected to accompany him. But when they’d reached the warlord’s fortress, it had been too late. Small piles of ashes, some companied by dead Ghosts—denoted what remained of the Warlord’s army. The humans that had been imprisoned were nowhere to be found. And the Warlord himself…

“Why weren’t we told the bastard made ** _her_** hit list?” Skorri hissed. Felwinter glanced to the side. The Warlord’s charred corpse lay sprawled out on the ground—body cavity still gaping wide open, as if he’d exploded from the inside. 

“Ghelon’s spy probably didn’t know.” He answered, turning his attention back to the woman sitting some yards away. “Warlord Kostya can move quietly when she wants to.” The other Risen paid him and Skorri no attention, lighting a cigarette. Like him and Skorri, she was wrapped in furs against the bitter Old Russian cold. Steel-gray hair was pulled back into a severe braided bun—however a streak of red lingered among the strands. The hairstyle gave Kostya a matronly look, and had not one known the Warlord’s reputation, would have figured her to be somebody’s grandmother. Felwinter leaned back in his seat, eyes taking in every inch of the other Risen’s form while he accessed his memory banks.

  
**Warlord Kostya  
Nickname: ‘Baba Yaga’  
Vigilante enforcer of Risen, particularly in western, eastern Europe and part of Asia  
Known for extreme brutality against Warlords who abuse women and children—takes their people under her care.  
Solar affinity, can trigger spontaneous combustions in her general area.  
Sector Location: Unknown.   
** **Allegiance: Unknown**

  
Kostya exhaled a plume of smoke, looking at the two Iron Lords.  
  
“Sorry.” She said, not sounding one bit apologetic. “Had I known you were coming; I would have left you a little something of him.” Old Russia was thick in Kostya’s voice, and she crossed her legs, ankle over knee.  
  
“Highly unlikely.” Skorri muttered. Kostya cackled, tapping ash from her cigarette. 

“I’m not on your list, am I?”

“Not yet.” Felwinter answered. “But, since you’re here…” The Russian Warlord cackled again, bringing the cigarette back to her lips. 

“I already know. Join or die.” She leaned back in her chair, surveying the two with a glittering blue-eyed gaze. “Do you mind if I hold off on that decision until you actually show up on my doorstep? You’re going to find me at some point.”

“Why not decide now?” Skorri challenged. 

“Because if I say no, it will lead to fight the moment the rain stops. And I am not in the mood, plus I like to believe you two are intelligent enough to not start something while the weather is still shit.” Kostya answered. “Besides. You have bigger problems on hand.”

“We do?” Felwinter asked, knowing the answer. Kostya smirked at him.

“Pass Radegast a message from me.” She said, leaning forward. “Do not try for the Moscow sector. You don’t have the manpower, nor the resources.”

“Warning us off?” Skorri jabbed, crossing her arms. “Are we about to derail your plans?”

“Warning you off because the lot of you will die Final Deaths.” Kostya retorted. She pulled her furs more snugly around her with her free hand, her Ghost snuggling into the hollow between neck and shoulder. “As you are right now, possibly.” Now it was Felwinter’s turn to lean forward. Steepling his hands together, he looked at the other Risen.

“What is it that you know?” He was intrigued. He didn’t want to fight Kostya. She was a wild card, but there was a slim chance that she would see reason. And to have one of the most feared Risen—at least among their kind on their side, would be a great benefit. On her part, Kostya surveyed the two again, then tapped the ash from her cigarette away.

“I do not know what is going on, but the Moscow sector is not only well guarded, it is operating on a Golden-Age level.” She said. “Stable power, active defenses. My people intercepted a slave caravan coming from there. One of the women had been pregnant, given birth prematurely. The baby survived by being put into a neonatal intensive care unit.” Kostya took another drag of the cigarette.

“That doesn’t make sense!” Skorri countered. “The Collapse—it’s said all the infrastructure in the major old capitals was destroyed!”

“You speak truth.” Kostya gestured. “Moscow sector is particularly susceptible to the black ice blizzards. Yet…” She shrugged, leaning back. “It lives. Thriving, even.” Felwinter said nothing, his processers reviewing the information they’d just been given. There was the possibility that Kostya had been lying, but she’d not given any of the cues. Her voice and body language had been honest, no trace of deception. And if she was telling the truth… The Iron Lords were still in their infancy. They were only now starting to gain more allies, supplies.

 _This might be worth investigating._ If Moscow was as well defended-and developed as Kostya claimed, the Iron Lords would have to plan carefully when they reached that point. 


	3. Baba Yaga [present]

_The Last City  
Dark Ages_

Timur held his hands in a prayer pose in front of him, a look of concern on his features.

“Warlord Kostya is one of the final holdouts?” He asked. “As in Baba Yaga _herself_?” The Speaker watched as the Iron Lords’ faces expressed a range of irritation, concern-and well, Light only knew what Felwinter was thinking.

“Baba Yaga?” He repeated. 

“A nickname the other European Warlords gave her. Primarily for the sheer bloody hell she unleashes upon those who incur her wrath.” Ghelon answered. “I had a feeling she’d be one of the very last on the list, if not the final one.”

“Is she so very dangerous then?” The Speaker asked. 

“Wait.” Saint-14 said, tilting his head to the side. “Is…this the Risen who punishes those of us who abuse the humans?”

“Women, children, and other Risen.” Felwinter said, his mouthplates flashing. “She’s responsible for clearing out the worst of us–or rather, the ones we couldn’t get to fast enough.”

“I heard she killed Warlord Petros’ Ghost, then tied him down, cut off his genitals, stuffed them in his mouth, then disemboweled him and let him bleed out…” Efrideet breathed.

“She did.” Jolder said grimly. “Saladin and I just missed taking care of him by six hours. We found what remained of him tied to a chair in the middle of his burned-out fortress.” The red-haired Titan exhaled, eyes flashing. “But considering what the bastard was known to do, he deserved it.”

“If she’s as noble as she sounds, why haven’t you extended her an offer into the Iron Lords?” The Speaker asked, curious. 

“We can’t find her for one, and the second, she’s a Light-dammed troll.” Radegast said, irritation clear in his voice. “She loves mischief. The few times we have encountered her, she’s tricked her way clear.”

“Didn’t she scream something about Osiris’ head reflecting the sunlight in a blaze of radiance that time you encountered her in Berlin, Felwinter?” Saladin asked.

“And called him a walking chicken legs.” Felwinter could feel the urge sparking in his programming to facepalm as the memory replayed in his processor. 

“The one time we ran into her-” Silimar gestured to Saladin and himself. “She yelled at Saladin about him and Jolder.” Saladin seemed to practically bristle, the Speaker noted. “I think specifically ‘for the love of the Light, please get fucked, you’ll be so much nicer with the stick removed from your ass.’” Beneath the mask, the Speaker raised an eyebrow as Efrideet choked back a laugh, Saint-14 snorted, and Jolder’s lips twitched ever so slightly. 

“So…war crimes against fellow Risen.” The Speaker said, attempting to get the subject back on track. “And being annoying–those are her only offenses?”


	4. Silence and Shadow (1) [past]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Soo…theorycrafting in this. I wanted to try my hand at maybe portraying Ana in her past life, along with her sister Willa. It seems confirmed in lore that Willa is…shall we say, not a very nice person, and we’re starting to get hints that Ana in her past life was the same. Europa also seems to be shady as ALL hell just based on the CB stuff that premiered in the trailer. 
> 
> I’m also going with the idea that somebody somewhere back in the Golden Age had to be getting suspicious of Clovis Bray. Other than the Ishtar Collective. I wouldn’t have put it past one or two major world powers to be secretly spying on the organization.)

\-----------------------

**_Western Kazakhstan  
Golden Age  
  
_ **

_“Never. Ever. Ever. Discount your feelings ever again.” Anya leaned so that her face was bare millimeters from her daughter’s own.  
_

_“Never assume that what you’re sensing is the result of anxiety, or overthinking, or something else. If here.” Kostya blinked as her midsection was poked, and Anya continued.  
_

_“If that is telling you something is wrong, then it’s wrong. Get up. Walk away. Get distance. Fuck whatever or whomever it was. Even if it’s coming from the Traveler itself, stand your ground.” Anya’s eyes glittered in the low light.  
_

_“Your intuition is the strongest power you possess, Kostya. Listen to it. Always_.”

“Mama.” Kostya whispered. The room around her seemed to wobble, and she swore that she could feel Anya’s presence, smell her perfume–

“-here, Kostya, sit!”

“Get her head in-between her legs, get some water–” Movement broke Kostya out of her stupor. Hands were moving her, guiding her to a chair-as her unborn baby lurched inside her womb. That jarred her back to reality-

“No- _nyet_. I-I’m fine, I’m fine, just a dizzy spell…”

“Drink.” A cup was shoved into her hands, and automatically Kostya obeyed. Bitter herbs met her tongue and she almost spat it out.

“Drink the whole thing, brat.” Commander Ivashova ordered. She was the unofficial ‘dorm mother’ to the outpost, and had been plying Kostya with herbal teas and remedies throughout her pregnancy so far. The fact that they had guests kept Kostya from hurling a profanity at the commanding officer, but the tea was doing it’s work, she was feeling stronger. 

“Perhaps the news was a bit too much.” Another female voice interjected. “I could return later.” Kostya inhaled sharply-feeling her baby move again. She’d swear to the Traveler and back that Nadya was upset, that was her ‘I don’t like this thing’ twitch. Setting the mug down on the table, Kostya reached for her self control.

“I am fine. I apologize for the scene.” She said, her voice calm and professional. Anastasia Bray blinked at her. 

“We should be apologizing!” Willa Bray countered. Both she and her sister were dressed professionally–sleek pantsuits, Clovis Bray badges clipped to their lapels. Anastasia’s long hair fell about her shoulders a midnight-black curtain, while Willa’s locks were pulled into a neat and perfect bun. Both women were in peak physical health, their very attitudes screaming money and power–and in the case of the hulking bodyguard Exos that had accompanied them, brute force as well. But it had been their eyes that had unsettled Kostya. Anastasia’s brown orbs held a ruthless light, and Kostya–again, she’d swear it was her imagination but Anya’s words were echoing in her mind–

Anastasia looked…cold. Unfeeling. Willa…Kostya let her gaze flick to the other Bray. Willa looked heartless. Cruel. Oh yes, they were professional women, and thank the Traveler they’d advanced from the more barbaric days of when women had to spend themselves almost to the breaking point to be respected in any field–but this was beyond a case of ‘resting bitch face times two’. 

“How far are you, if I may ask?” Willa again. Anastasia’s gaze was fixed on Kostya, almost calculating.

“Five months.” Kostya answered. Overcome with some nameless urge, she rested a hand on her stomach, gently rubbing the spot where a tiny foot was. “My due date is quite literally our Christmas.” Russia still celebrated the holiday several days into the new year. 

“Christmas presents and birthday presents. That will be interesting.” Anastasia commented, her lips curling into a smile. Kostya shrugged.

“I may induce labor. The medical scans are forecasting that she’ll be at least 8 pounds by December and fully developed.” She said. That earned her another kick. Nadya disapproved of the potential eviction, possibly. “But you did not come here to have your ears filled with baby talk.” Willa snorted.

“Please. It’s nice to discuss subjects other than work.” She said, waving a hand. When Kostya didn’t take the bait, the American sighed. 

“As I was saying before. Your name is at the top of the list of candidates in your field of specialty. Clovis Bray has secured funding for several projects at Europa, and we’d like you to take point for the one we’d outlined.” She said. “Obviously somebody in Personnel Administration messed up the paperwork, if you took the position we’d have to rush preparations.” Health guidelines by the Earth Forces stated pregnant women could only undergo space travel within the second trimester. Kostya was approaching her sixth month of pregnancy. 

“Could this not wait until after she had the baby and her maternal leave?” Ivashova asked, crossing her arms. 

“The possibility is there, but we would have to speak with Father about it.” Anastasia answered. She looked at Kostya, who found herself repressing a shiver. “But Clovis Bray does have a very generous maternity package, and I can vouch for the medical facilities on Europa. If you choose to accept.”

“ _Da_.” Kostya muttered. “May I have a little time–obviously the evening, and I must speak with my superiors…”

“Of course!” Willa gestured. The conversation turned to more polite talk, and soon the Bray siblings took their leave, Ivashova showing them to the exit. As she came back she saw Kostya clutching the table in a death-grip, shaking like a leaf.

“Sokolova what are you-”

“I am not taking that position.” Kostya’s voice was unnatural, high pitched. The older Russian woman stopped. “I am not going to Europa. Commander–please, tell them something, tell them anything–I am not going to that moon!” Anxiety made Kostya’s voice crack–and Ivashova could only stare. She knew the young woman/officer for being calm, composed–perfectly stoic. Only once had Kostya broken down in tears and wept-it had been shortly after she’d come to Ivashova over her pregnancy, and it had been over the baby’s father. For Kostya to be so upset–shaking, crying–no, it just wasn’t the pregnancy. She had probably picked up on the same things Isahova had noticed about the Brays…and even then.

“Sssh, ssssh.” Ivashova strode over to Kostya, wrapping her in a bear hug. “Sssh. I will contact the admiral. You will be staying here until your maternity leave. They will have to go for their other choice.” Kostya hiccuped, wiping at her face.

“I…I am sorry…”

“No, no sorry. Sit.” Ivashova helped Kostya sit back down. “Take a breath. Stress is not good for you or Nadya. Sit, breathe, then go wash your face with cold water and take a walk.” Kostya nodded, and Ivashova huffed with satisfaction.

“I will contact the admiral now.” In addition to submitting the most detailed report she could put together of what had just happened. She had classified clearance for the Russian military’s other duty in the area…which was to keep an eye on the Americans. More specifically, Clovis Bray. They had been on a hiring spree as of late for their work on Europa…and Ivashova had gotten her own bad feelings the moment Willa Bray had begun to speak. Why approach a scientist like Kostya–when she was three to four months away from being inactive for the better part of a year? It wasn’t the science Ivashova had a problem with, or the hiring…well, the job offer–Kostya **_was_** one of Russia’s top cosmonauts and scientists after all. It was only natural that someone like the Brays themselves or the like would approach her in person. Anything less would have been an insult. 

It was the timing.

It was the fact that Anastasia and Willa Bray were now being watched.

It was the fact that people had been disappearing. 

It was the fact more Exos were coming from Europa.

It was the fact that Clovis Bray was up to something.

“I shall fix you tea.”


	5. Two Murderers (1) [present]

There was a pre-Golden Age saying that Kostya was fond of. 

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions._

She wasn’t too sure on the idea of a spiritual Hell, but Kostya certainly believed in a physical version. Light only knew that she’d done her best to be a representative of that idea. Too bad that her opponent also was a literal walking incarnation of damnation. From inside the fur of her collar, Alexi peeked out, squeaked in surprise, and then immediately buried himself back into his hiding place. Kostya reached into her pocket.

“Felwinter.” The Iron Lord inclined his head- _Light, it was that fucked up helm with the **Ghost** in the back_, she could already feel her skin _crawling_ and Alexi’s distress. Kostya removed her pack of cigarettes, tapping one out. Putting it in-between her lips, she slipped the pack back into her pocket and snapped her fingers. A spark of flame sparked to life.

“Am I to assume all of this was for me then?” She asked, her words mumbled.

“Partly.” Felwinter watched as the Warlord lit the cigarette, the flame disappearing from her fingertips. “You’ve broken the Iron Decree.” Kostya gave the Exo a flinty blue-eyed gaze. Taking a deep drag from the cigarette, she exhaled out the smoke in a long plume.

“So have you.” She said. “We’ve killed and we’ve murdered, for the exact same reasons. Ghostless being abused, Ghost-killers, murderers…” Another drag. “Only I’m the one being hunted.”

“We know you’re not like the others.” Felwinter said. Kostya rolled her eyes, snorting smoke out from her nostrils. “You’ve stabilized several sectors. The Warlords of Moscow fear you. You’re up there with Shaxx in terms of making our unruly kind behave.”

“Are you done talking now?”

“Radagast wants to meet you.” Kostya blinked in surprise, and Alexi peeked out from her hood. “I spoke with him.” The Exo’s eyes flashed as the other Warlock barked with laughter.

“I highly doubt that Radagast wants me alive in any way, shape or form!”

“You’re useful.” Felwinter continued. “There’s talk of you from the Ghostless that lived under your aegis.” Ah, now he had the other woman’s full attention, but at a cost. If he moved for the shotgun behind his back or prepared a spell, Kostya would gleefully retaliate. The plan was to keep her distracted while Timur and Skorri moved into position. 

“I’m useful.” Kostya repeated.

“You’re annoying, but useful.” Felwinter answered. “Radagast wants the fighting to stop. You’re part of the reason why it’s still going on.”

“I would like not to fight but sometimes it happens, alright?” Kostya snapped, gesturing with her cigarette.

“Really.” Felspring chimed in. She materialized over her Risen’s left shoulder. Kostya stuck her tongue out at the Ghost.

“Really.” She said.

“Berlin.” Felwinter and Felspring said at the same time.

“That was entirely the fault of Saint-14 and that flaming cue-ball asshol—” Kostya trailed off. Before Felwinter could react, she’d Blinked-reappearing behind him. A bolt of lightning struck where she’d originally been standing. Felwinter spun around. A Dawnblade appeared in his hands as he swung at Kostya with it. At the same time Skorri appeared from behind Kostya, sword in hand as well. But both blades were blocked by Kostya, who had summoned her duel-Dawnblades, one in each hand.

“You were saying about stopping fights?!” She snarled.

“Like you were going to come peacefully!” Skorri countered.

“I assume the nerd was the one with the lightning bolt, then!” Kostya pushed back against the two Iron Lords-and then made to Blink backwards. Instead she slammed into another cloth-clad body—Timur had snuck up from behind and sized her in a vice-like grip.

“Who’s the nerd now?” He jeered.

“Fuck **_off_** , Sparky!” And with that, Kostya tilted her head forward-and slammed it back as hard as she could. The sound of Timur’s nose breaking and his arms loosening was her reward. Both Warlocks fell, with Kostya rolling away as fast as she could to the side. She stumbled to her feet in time as Felwinter stomped on the spot where she’d been, the ground cracking beneath his boot. 

“Run!” Alexi urged. Kostya didn’t respond, Blinking once-then Blinking again, then a third time—she needed to get distance. Felwinter was bad enough on his own, but all _three_ Iron Lord Warlocks? _Nyet._ Timur’s Arc was so powerful he could alter the brains of anyone it struck, and Skorri’s flames rivaled the Sunbreakers. Kostya Blinked again-and started to race up a staircase. She could hear thunder beginning to rumble outside and heat rising from beneath her—Timur and Skorri respectively. And then to make matters worse-bootsteps and the cocking of a shotgun. Felwinter.

“ ** _Blyad_**!” 


	6. Silence and Shadow (2) [past]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Please indulge me, the idea bunny decided to eat my brain alive for this. More possible theorycraft for Europa and what…might have been going on? I dunno. Figured it wasn’t too much of a stretch that CB would have possibly allowed any…’experiments’ to go outside of the lab, see how they interacted with the world in general. Or whatever the fuck was going on Europa fucking with people in general, as what happened with the K1 crew and the orb. Honestly I’m subscribing to the theory that the Darkness was on Europa as well and CB…decided to play with it. MISTAKES WERE MADE THEN, OBIVOUSLY.)

**_\------------------------------------------_ **

**_  
Moscow  
Golden Age_ **

It was said centuries ago, Americans and Russians had been locked in a geopolitical state of tension for a 44 year period. It had been known as the Cold War. Both nations spied on each other, threatened each other with nuclear doom, and generally hissed and spat at each other like angry cats. The period was rife with stories of spies, treachery, murder…

And it was Petrov’s favorite historical topic. The man lived, breathed, slept anything Cold War related. Anything spy related. Petrov inhaled it like a Roomba. It made for intelligent conversation at least after sex, but in this case…

“This is the cheesiest fucking thing I’ve done in my life ever.” Kostya muttered. It was near midnight, and she and Petrov were waiting in an abandoned parking garage.

“Don’t say that. It’s safe.” Petrov countered. “We lost our tails, our contact said this was a safe place to meet-”

“Didn’t the fucking Americans…” Kostya racked her brain. Traveler, what was it? “Something with a pornstar’s name.”

“Deep Throat, Watergate.” Petrov answered. “Involved one of their Presidents.” He turned his head as Kostya removed a cigarette and a lighter. His eyes widened.

“What are you doing?!” He exclaimed.

“What you do you mean ‘what are you doing?’“ Kostya repeated.

“You could…leave evidence behind! Don’t smoke! You can go one hour without-” Petrov trailed off at the murderous glint in his fellow cosmonaut/lover’s eyes.

“Petrov. I have two opinions to steady my nerves right now. This-” Kosyta brandished the cigarette. “Or murdering you.” Before Petrov could respond, the sound of movement made both Russians turn towards a shadowed area of the garage level they were on.

“There.” 

“I hear it.” Petrov answered, putting a hand to the small of his back. His fingers closed around the butt of his gun. Kostya slipped her own hand into one of the pockets of the jacket hanging over her left arm, her own gun was there… Slowly a human form appeared in the dim light.

“I’m friendly.” It said. Kostya frowned, the voice was distorted.

“Who says?” She replied.

“Friendlier than the Americans following you. Same for our people. I’d tell you to be more careful of us, but the Americans are Clovis Bray.” The unidentified man? woman? person-tilted their head in greeting.

“Major-General Petrov Abramov. Major-General Kostya Sokolova. Or…what would it have been? Princess Kostya Sokolova? Our current Tsar is very inclined to reconstitute more of the nobility, and the tabloids have it that your line extends back to the Revolution.” Kostya inhaled, resuming lighting her cigarette despite Petrov’s hiss at her.

“We don’t acknowledge such a thing.” She said. “Family rule. Never tangle in politics. You end up dead.” The stranger snorted.

“It might be best to break that rule.”

“Because of American bullies?” Kostya retorted.

“Because the Americans you dealt with during the incident were Clovis Bray. Specifically, Clovis Bray employees from Europa.” Petrov watched as Kostya froze in shock, the cigarette falling from her suddenly-numb fingers.

“Europa?” She repeated.

“I looked over their files myself and had them double-checked and triple checked.” Petrov interjected. His voice was hard, but Kostya knew that was a sign of his anxiety. Europa-despite Clovis Bray’s glamour and glitz PR, had a bad name among the Earth Forces. Investigations had been going on into it for years, and had never come up with anything. People went to Europa-and while some came back, others vanished, as if snatched out of thin air. Decades ago Kostya had turned down a job offer from Clovis Bray to work for them on the moon.

Her understudy had gone missing six months later. The project he’d taken-that had been offered to Kostya, shut down.

“Files can be changed, Major-General. The astronauts were Clovis Bray. That’s why you’re being watched. Clovis Bray wants to know if you found out any of their dirty little secrets. Us to protect you…and also if you found out any dirty little secrets.” Kostya and Petrov shared a look.

“We don’t know anything.” Petrov answered, looking back at the stranger. Kostya remained silent, memories flicking through her mind. She remembered Janet screaming, foaming at the mouth, ripping out her hair in bloody chunks in the station cafeteria-

_They’re in my head they’re in my head they’re in my head! Everything’s in my mind! I see it all! I see reality-no, all the realities!! I can taste time and space! I see pitch-black, no stars, cold space-I feel them crawling in my skin–_

_I went to the cold, you see?_ Luna-4′s voice, singsong, a broken electrical screech. _I went to the cold and there were so many of us there, I laid down in the snow and they went into my mind and took what was there and put so many more in, they’re behind my eyes they’re in my throat-_

 _I see black, I see orange, I see pointy shapes, lots of shapes, lots of knives and smiling teeth–_ Robert, advancing on her with a butcher knife, his eyes beginning to bleed-

“-They were just barely…operational. I don’t know who had the genius idea that they were fit for that mission-”

“They talked.” Kostya interrupted the stranger. Petrov started, looking at her. 

“Kostya?”

“They talked.” Kostya repeated. “They…they talked about cold, about snow, about colors and shapes and knives and teeth…” A chill was overtaking her body, and it had nothing to do with the Moscow cold. Kostya briefly sensed movement-it was Petrov, moving closer to her and wrapping an arm around her body.

“Traveler, you’re like ice!”

“I didn’t tell…the investigation board.” Kostya got out. “I didn’t tell them that the Americans talked. Or rather–I didn’t tell them everything they-no. Luna-4. I didn’t tell them everything she said–I-I thought it was insane rambling, that they’d gone mad!”

“They were already mad.” The stranger said softly. “But something they did on your mission-sent them over the edge.”

“We wouldn’t know.” Petrov said. Kostya shook her head, hair moving about her shoulders. 

“Keep saying that then.” The stranger advised. Their gaze flicked to Kostya. “Luna-4, you said?”

“Navigator.” Kostya got out, her mouth dry. “She talked about…they took something out of her mind but then they put more in, more…”

_We are legion, we are one, we are many-and they all are looking out from behind my eyes, see?_

“She said there were many behind her eyes.” Kostya whispered.

“Many what?” Petrov asked, his voice gentle. Kostya shook her head.

“I don’t know.”


	7. An Attempt [present]

“Gheleon, while I don’t doubt you’re probably very handsome under the mask…” Kostya tried to squirm. The Void-ribbons refused to budge, instead only tightening themselves around her body with dark hisses. The Warlord exhaled, letting her body relax for the moment. Fucking Tethers.

“But really, I don’t feel comfortable with the tentacles. This makes me wonder about your sexual practices. And while I feel as if I’m fairly open-minded, I draw the line at inviting the Void near or into my intimate regions.”

There was dead silence for several moments. Then…

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Gunnora exploded. High-pitched and quickly-smothered laughter came from Timur and Perun. Saladin was staring at her as if she’d grown two extra heads, Gheleon was twitching visibly, and Felwinter…

“Warlord Kostya.”

“Yesss?” Kostya answered. She had a shit-eating grin on her face, that was probably also going to get her in trouble, but it would be worth it. Felwinter exhaled, eye-lights dimming.

“Your tendency to be a troll is not going to settle this situation.” He said. “Now. Where is your Ghost?” Their trap had almost gone off without a hitch–Kostya was bond by Gheleon’s Tethers, and Timur was looming right behind her, a handful of Arc at the ready. Efrideet was hidden with a sniper trained on the Warlord’s head…but there was just one issue, her Ghost was nowhere to be found. Felwinter knew the little drone loved Kostya dearly, it had to be somewhere close by.

“Alexi.” He began, raising his voice. “We’re not going to harm your Risen, we’re not going to harm you. We have orders to bring you to the Iron Temple.” Silence. 

_< I can’t pick up on his Light…>_ Felspring whispered. _< I-I really don’t think he’s in the area!> _ Felwinter didn’t acknowledge her, instead scrutinizing Kostya. The older Risen met his gaze head on, arching an eyebrow. The bravado was clearly on display–but Felwinter knew it was for show. Alexi loved Kostya, and Kostya loved him.

“I will not harm him.” He said.

“You will understand if I call bullshit on that, _da_?” Kostya replied.

“If we were going to hurt you, and trust us there were many people initially who were voting for that-Timur would have rearranged your brain some time ago.” Gheleon interjected. Kostya glanced at Timur, who shot her a sneer. Felwinter sighed as the Warlock stuck her tongue out in response. Irritation was starting to bloom in his processor, and he wished that he’d been the only one on this assignment. Alexi would come out quicker if Kostya was lying dead on the floor…

Suddenly, as if something had heard his wish-a gunshot cracked. Felwinter hit the floor along with the others-but something made him turn his head. Kostya was limp in her bonds, a red dot blooming blood in the center of her forehead. The door exploded open, and the last thing Felwinter heard was the crackle of Arc–


	8. The Hand That Gives The Rose [present]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Shamelessly ripping off Ravana from FFXIV. Please enjoy. Also I am of the firm belief Ferrero Rocher would still be around in the Golden Age–I love that candy so much, used to fight my mom over it.)

Warlord Alessandro had a grudge against Kostya. She’d killed his student, their Ghost, and had sent the head to him in a gift-wrapped box on a silver platter.

Kostya in turn, had Alessandro in the first position on her hit list. The ruler of the 34th sector of Old Italia had taken every child from the villages under his domain and given them to the House of Rain. 

Chatter had arrived that Alessandro had dared to leave his sector-entering Old Russia via the Ukraine. This news had reached both the Iron Lords and Kostya. Both parties planned independently to intercept the Warlord, for different reasons. The chatter however, had not included the fact that Alessandro was traveling with a private army of well over a hundred Risen. 

The Iron Lords sent only Saladin, Jolder, and Efrideet.

Kostya traveled with only herself, Sakura, Adaliya, and Nadia.

  
———  
  
“Oh. Sweet. Light.” Adaliya plastered herself against the glass of the Golden-Age vending machine. “They’ve Ferrero Rocher in here!”

“Out the way, I’m breaking it.” Sakura ordered, holding up a fist. “And nobody tell her!”

“Is it the small candies or the big ones?” Nadia wondered, robes rustling as she peered around Sakura. A cough drew her attention, and she looked to the side. Saladin, Jolder and Efrideet were standing some yards away. Jolder had a distinct ‘what the fuck’ expression on her features, Saladin was staring in disbelief, and Efrideet…well, the helmet was always on. 

“You are aware the building is surrounded.” Saladin stated. Sakura punched the glass, shaking her fist as pieces fell to the floor. 

“Yep.” She said cheerfully. “Kunai, do you-” Two reusable grocery bags materialized out of nowhere.

“There’s more of these where they came from.” Her Ghost said, hovering over her head.

“You are also aware that your leader is outside, all alone.” Saladin continued. Nadia scooted over to the window, opening it. Then she pursed her lips as multiple laser dots appeared on her chest.

“Rude.” She commented.

“ _Obachan_ is fine. Wait.” Sakura looked towards the Warlock. “Is she out there yet?”

“No, just a horde of angry assholes. Hold on.” Nadia’s eyes fixed on the center square. Alessandro was approaching, along with several more of his men.

“Correction, The Grand Dick himself is approaching.”

“ ** _KOSTYA_**!” The roar had Saladin and Jolder rush to join Nadia at the window, while Efrideet hurried to another one. Adaliya paused, her mouth full of purloined chocolate.

“ ** _SHOW YOURSELF_**!”

“I think he’s still pissy about whats-his-name.” Nadia added.

“We need to get out of here and call for backup.” Saladin said. 

“Comms are still jammed.” Jolder answered.

“And it looks like he’s traveling with land-transports, too!” Efrideet called out, peering through the scope of her sniper rifle. Adaliya joined the trio at the window, cloak rustling.

“I found…oooh.” Her fingers stilled on the sealed bag. In the square below them, Solar Light was beginning to form seemingly out of nowhere in mid-air. It twisted and spun into a circle of flame, from which two Dawnblades emerged and shot themselves towards the ground, impaling themselves. The scene made Alessandro’s Risen and the Warlord pause, guns training on the two swords.

“What the…” Saladin began. Adaliya ripped open the bag of popcorn.

“I’m getting a chair, excuse me.” Nadia said, turning to squeeze past the two Titans. 

“Is she being over-dramatic?” Sakura asked, putting another reusable grocery bag of sealed food on a table. Jolder’s head turned toward the younger Titan.

“That’s Kostya?” She asked.

“Keep watching, keep watching!” Adaliya exclaimed. A grin was on her face as she leaned against the window frame. Below, several Risen had dared to approach the Dawnblades. One poked at it with their rifle, then reared back as the Dawnblades shifted position. The swords began to cut a circular groove in the earth, fire sparking off them to create a fire tornado. The twister began to stretch upward, before beginning to contort in upon itself…

Suddenly, two of the Risen were headless. A third was bisected at the waist, and a fourth was split in half lengthwise. From the pillar Kostya appeared, bringing both Dawnblades down gracefully in front of her. Within a breath she began to move, cutting down another three Risen. Gracefully she twirled the blooded swords about her, dancing in place before facing Alessandro. The Russian Warlord’s lips spread in a maniacal smile. Eyes never leaving the other Warlord, Kostya lifted the flat of one Dawnblade to her mouth, licking at the blood staining the Light-blade.

“What in the hell…” Saladin breathed. Jolder stared at the other Risen-Nadia had brought her chair over, and was accepting a handful of popcorn from Adaliya.

“You’re not going down to help her?!”

“She’s fine.” The other Hunter said dismissively. “Grab a chair. This gon be good.”


	9. Poking the Bear [present]

He’d panicked. Normally, he’d have his gun. Easier with a weapon to explain what happened–than if he’d used his Light. Even now his very being was screaming-finish it, finish it, find her Ghost–he’d come up with something, he always did…

Wait. The Ghost had to be inside her. It would explain why Kostya was still breathing. Though Felwinter had to give her credit, to even be functional with his hand having plowed through her chest, his fingers wrapped around her heart…

“I see I hit a nerve.” The Russian woman’s voice was raspy, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Felwinter felt Felspring trying to reach him through their net, distress clear—but he shoved her to the side. 

“What do you know?” He demanded. If he had to kill her-he’d at least get that much. He and Felspring had worked so hard to cover their tracks, to avoid anything with _Him._

“Nothing until you decided that apparently you wanted to go the overly violent alluding-to-sexual-route.” Kostya coughed. Alexi was dulling the pain-but it was starting to break through, and his healing was beginning to fray. Then she screamed as those fingers began to make good on their threat.

“ ** _Tell me_**!” Felwinter snarled. His eyes and mouthplate were flaring brightly, the panic rising up like a tidal wave. Kostya choked-feeling Alexi start to panic.

“It’s not what I knew, it’s what you did!” She spat out, glaring at Felwinter. Her vision was starting to blur-but was that–she’d swear that the Exo actually looked shocked. Then there was another wave of pain–but no squeezing–

Kostya’s body hit the floor, the Warlord expiring from shock. Felwinter staggered back-his right hand was bloody, as was his robes. He couldn’t hear Felspring for the dread that had awakened inside him, the panic overwhelming his normally rational thought processes. As he watched, Kostya’s Ghost materialized, and a pillar of Light overtook Kostya. Moments later she began to cough, landing on her knees as the ressurection took hold. Body trembling, her own robes still stained with blood, she looked at Felwinter.

“You can calm down.” Her voice was raspy. “I look like I want to fuck you over?”

“What did you mean by something I did?” Felwinter’s voice was equally harsh. Kostya bowed her head, reaching for her mental equilibrium. When Alexi was truly upset, like now, his resurrections suffered and Kostya often was left working on recovering from whatever had killed her.   
  
“Berlin.” She whispered. “You had me dead to rights. Alexi was dazed, all you needed to do was shoot. But you didn’t.” She watched as Felwinter’s optics glowed again. “You saw something–and the next thing I knew, you weren’t there. I looked up, but all I could see was Rasputin’s symbol.” Inhaling–okay, now it wasn’t hurting so much, Kostya slowly rose to her feet.  
  
“I thought maybe it was a fluke. You got recalled away–something like that. But then it happened again.” She said. “The fight with the House of Rain–the invading party at Shenzhen. The Walker’s explosion destroying the ground beneath our feet, and falling down into that bunker. Again, you fled. And again, the only thing that was around was Rasputin’s symbol. I knew that time that there weren’t any Iron Lords–nobody was around for us, they were all at the top.” She coughed. “Normally if anyone sees the Warmind’s symbol, they head straight for it. But you…you ran away.” Arc-colored eyes gazed steadily back at Felwinter’s optics.

“So tell me. What makes one of us flee the Warmind?” She asked.


	10. A Murderous Pall [past]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Inspired by the FFXIV song of the same name. Also a little bit of shamelessly ripping from a old James Bond movie, if you figure it out cookie points :p xD)

**\--------------------** ****

**  
10 miles from Russia/Ukraine border  
Collapse  
Earth**  
  
  
If she stopped moving, she would die. Sooner, rather than by what would be outside the abandoned station at nightfall or the voices that kept hissing in the back of her mind. Abandon all hope, she had failed, always had been a failure, nothing would save her or her loved ones-

But Kostya knew she was already dead. Her heart had broken when Nadya had fallen before her eyes. Alexi, her firstborn, her first baby-he lived, he was safe-please Traveler, let him be safe-but Nadya… Kostya felt her heart seize, and she doubled over. Bile rose in her throat and she gagged. Nadya, her baby, her bright bouncing star, her little scientist-

Kostya choked, but made herself straighten. Made herself put her fingers back on the control board. She would die-but not just yet. Not right now. She had to get Irina-Nadya’s baby-to Alexi. Her granddaughter was safely cocooned in a modified scour-plug tube that would go along the old Trans-Siberian pipeline out of Russia into the Ukraine. Alexi and his friends would be waiting on the other side.

The pipe had been modified for two. But only one was inside. Kostya had arrived too late at the station–it was a half-hour before nightfall. Her contact, or rather what remained of him, had been scattered all over the cafeteria. The original plan had been for daylight hours–because the station made a racket when a scour-plug was launched. 

Kostya was nothing but adaptable. A simple enough solution. Send Irina ahead-and stay behind to fight the devils that would come running the moment the modified plug was launched. Her grandbaby was sedated and sleeping sweetly, Kostya prayed that she was dreaming of happier times. Alexi would be upset–so upset, but Kostya prayed that her son would understand. 

——

A cargo truck outside had been loaded with several gas cans. Those Kostya had seized-along with piling as much furniture as she could in front of the pipe-room door. For her, she’d littered the hallway to the control room with as much debris as she could-and dumped the contents of all but one gas can over everything for good measure. The more chaos Kostya could create, the better, she judged. Long enough for Irina to get clear.

Despite her best attempts–Kostya had gone into the pipe room. Opened the tube. Kissed and hugged her granddaughter-weeping silently into Irina’s hair. Never would she hear ‘ _Babushka, Babushka_!’ ever again, nor see Irina twirling and jumping in her little pink ballet flats, hear her granddaughter laugh-or see Nadya and Irina together, two identical red-heads close as if whispering secrets, no more Sunday morning teas, no more birthdays, dance recitals, sleepovers-no more holidays–

A letter to Alexi was tucked securely into Irina’s coat, and her mittens were tied onto the sleeves-she always had a habit of losing them. 

Before the pain could take over, reminding herself to breathe, Kostya made herself close the tube and return to the control room. Everything was blurry-she couldn’t see very well, but all she needed to do was to press one button. An almighty roar, metal screeching and then the station rattling–it was supposedly pre-Golden Age and her grandbaby was gone, gone–

—–

The smell of wet earth mingled with the stink of burning plastics.

Roaring flame fought with the unearthly sounds of a machine being stretched and compressed, as if something was playing with the very atoms that comprised it.

Screams came after the cracking noise of a sniper rifle.

Metal warped and bent as the door to the control room was ripped open.

_Prince Ivan waved the feather, and the Firebird came. She landed amongst the Koschei and his minions and began to dance. She was a bewitching, dazzling ripple of multicolored flame. All who looked upon her were mesmerized, and so she enchanted the Koschei and his creatures into an enchanted sleep…_

One gunshot.

One explosion.

Then a spark of Light-shimmering beneath a aura of Darkness, ever so briefly, before fading from visible sight.


	11. Dracarys [present]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (okay yes I know, GoT is anathema now but the soundtrack’s still awesome, yes? Wrote this little bit with Kostya while listening to aforementioned track.)

\------------------------

The probability of the situation going to hell was…very statistically high.

 _< This is not good…>_ Felspring whispered.

“I know.” Felwinter muttered. Alongside him, Jolder shifted uneasily, while Timur’s fingers twitched. They had come to the fortress of a local Warlord–Benjamin to issue the Iron Decree.

They hadn’t known Benjamin was holding captives–Lightless to be traded to the House of Rain.

They also hadn’t known that the Warlord had also taken one of those captives for his own twisted appetites. A young woman that he’d killed and thrown from the rooftop when he was finished.

“She’s not doing anything.” Timur murmured. A hint of fear was in his voice. On the other side of the room, facing Benjamin—and the Iron Lords, was Kostya. The Old Russian Warlord was draped in her furs, calmly lighting a cigarette. Yet Felwinter could see that the other Warlock was shaking in rage. Adding in a major element of unpredictability, Kostya was not her usual self. Normally there would have been snarky commentary aimed at him and the other Iron Lords. Or she would have already engaged. Instead she stood there, dragging in deep lungfuls of toxic air.

 _< She’s just…standing there.>_ Jolder’s Ghost transmitted. 

“Felwinter, you’ve had the most dealings with her. What the hell is she up to?” Jolder whispered. Kostya took another pull of the cigarette. 

“I…don’t…” Felwinter trailed off. He and Felspring had both noticed it at the same time. The Old Russian Warlord outwardly, save for the shaking, looked and appeared fine. But on the inside…her body temperature was starting to rise. In fact…

 ** _1500_** ** _°F  
  
1550_** ** _°F  
  
1575_** ** _°F  
  
1600_** ** _°F_**  
  
 _< …Is it just me or is it starting to get warm in here?>_ Timur’s Ghost whispered.

**_1700_ ** **_°F_ **

**_1725_ ** **_°F_ **

Felwinter watched as Kostya’s face contorted into an expression of sheer rage. An almost…well, ‘unholy’ was the best verb to describe it—light was in her eyes. Her lips contorted in a snarl, showing her teeth—and the red streak that was in her gray hair—no, it wasn’t getting bigger, it was _actual fire_ —

**_1765_ ** **_°F_ **

**_1790_ ** **_°F_ **

**_1799_ ** **_°F_ **

_ <JOLDER, PUT UP YOUR WARD NOW!>_ Jolder’s Ghost screamed. The Titan reacted—just barely in the nick of time, as Kostya _detonated._ The Titan’s Ghost and Timur’s Ghost screamed wordlessly—Felwinter could feel an echo of pain coming from Felspring, Benjamin’s Ghost was gone. Timur was howling in agony, Jolder hadn’t gotten the Ward of Dawn up fast enough, his left arm was simply a sizzling stump at the shoulder. Delayed alarms suddenly made themselves known in Felwinter’s HUD-the sheer heat had fried his optics and his synthetic nerves were screaming from damage. As his vision snowed and crackled, Felwinter could see Jolder just above him—oh, he’d fallen it seemed—struggling to keep up the Ward. Around the Void bubble the flames shrieked and screamed. Jolder coughed-blood trickling from her lips, and cracks were starting to appear on the Ward’s surface…

Then suddenly, everything was quiet. Jolder’s strength gave out, the Titan collapsed to her knees. Felwinter could only dazedly look around him. Everything combustible in the room was gone—even the wooden roof. The only things that had survived were the stones, and even then they themselves were melted, covered with a layer of black soot. In front of the trio was Kostya, head tilted back. A long, slow exhalation escaped her, and her shoulders relaxed. 

**_98.6_ ** **_°F_ **

Kostya’s Ghost materialized, floating around his Risen as Kostya brought her head forward. The cigarette was still in her hand. Bringing it back to her lips, she surveyed the downed trio—looking much like a displeased wealthy Golden-Age matriarch. Then she turned. Her booted heels clicked smartly against the floor as she walked away. Behind her were two piles of ash…the remains of Benjamin and his Ghost.


	12. A Need For A Cigarette [present]

**_Darwin Nature Reserve  
Old Russia  
Dark Ages_ **

The healthy cigarettes **_sucked_**. With a scowl, Kostya slumped in her chair, spreading her legs. Alexi, her brightspark, he was always fretting over her health-but he was turning into a miniature tyrant when it came to her smoking. How her Ghost had found Golden-Age faux cigarettes Kostya had no idea, and how he’d ensured her stashes had all gone missing and nobody would give her a real smoke was beyond her. And given what she’d just been told, Kostya so badly wanted a real, bad-for-her-lungs, would-feel-better-than-sex live cigarette.   
  
_Shaxx joining the Iron Lords. Traveler help us, what a clusterfuck._ Kostya lifted the faux-cigarette to her lips, listening as her second-in-command continued to speak.

“It’s a given now that the Iron Lords will turn their eyes to this region.” Sakura said, gesturing to a map. Her armor was sporting fresh dents-she’d come racing in from training the moment Kostya had called the meeting. “They’ll be well equipped from Alexander’s sector, and Gwain’s own will make sure they’re properly provisioned. The only one who might be able to give them a fight is Dmitri, but…”

“He’s been losing it.” Kostya finished. With a sigh she sat up, stubbing the fake cigarette out in a ashtray. 

“Complete mental at this point.” Another Risen-Lucille, commented. Her Ghost did a mid-air tumble, floating over to the map.

“But as long as we have the shield up, they can’t find us, right?” It chirped. Kostya glanced to the nearby engineer-who shook his head.

“We’ve jury-rigged the generators as much as we can. But they were damaged to begin with-and soon they’re just going to flat-out fail.” He said. 

“Which leaves us open to that collection of assholes in Old Moscow.” Sakura finished. 

“And the moment they know we’re here, that’s it.” Kostya added. For decades she’d been harrying the Warlords that had claimed the Old Russian capital as their own–saving non-Risen from the slave traders, breaking supply lines and stealing goods, attempting to poke holes in the sector’s defenses… There was a price on her head among their kind for what she’d done, acting as an independent enforcer. Kostya had no regrets, if she had to do it again, she’d gladly do so. But now she had people-non Risen and Risen under her aegis. The fortress in the nature preserve was just not strong enough to withstand a siege or attack. Which meant… Kostya bit her lower lip, glancing at Sakura. Now it was the younger woman’s turn to scowl darkly.

“ _Obachan_.” She began.

“The stories have it that the worst of them have been dealt with-” Kostya began.

“We can’t confirm that for sure!” Sakura snapped back. The other Risen and non-Risen had fallen silent, they’d been witness to several variants of this argument before. “ _Obachan_ , I implore you, please reconsider this notion of dealing with the Iron Lords!”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Kostya snapped. Light, how she wanted a real fucking cigarette. “We have to treat with them at some point, Sakura.”

“Maybe we can bypass them. Go directly to this City that they’re building, and ask for an audience with the Speaker.” Lucille interjected. 

“Slight issue, he’s tangled up with them too.” Sakura gestured, her pauldrons still stained with mud. 

“Sakura, what in the name of the Light would you have me do?!” Kostya exclaimed. Her second in command huffed in exasperation, looking away. “Do you think I don’t have misgivings about the Iron Lords? I have plenty, believe me! And have you forgotten that we’ve had encounters with them?!” And for fuck’s sake, can I please, for the love of the Light, the Traveler, everything holy and sacred, can I have a _FUCKING PROPER CIGARETTE?!_ ”  
  
“I enjoy my second life too much.” Lucille immediately said. 

“Your Ghost has issues.” Sakura pointed out.

“I’m not Risen, so I’m not involved in this.” The engineer said, holding up his hands and living. Kostya huffed, staring at the other two Risen.

“You two are so fucking helpful.”


	13. In From The Cold (1) [present]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Some headcanons–we do see examples of children in the Dark Age acting as scouts/being trained for possible Fallen incursions. The idea of Guardians having muscle memory is a personal thing of mine, I don’t really believe that the Traveler can wipe out everything completely, and it is mentioned somewhere in the lore possibly that Thanontic warlocks are able to get brief memory glimpses of their past in the moments before resurrection.)
> 
> (Lastly, climate changes. This was confirmed via the Constellations lorebook–and I would imagine it’s a ongoing process with Earth probably well into the City Age and beyond. The idea of flash-freezes I took from the movie The Day After Tomorrow. Weather shifts on what remains of Earth’s continents probably drove many Guardians and humans towards the Last City, Iron Lords/Warlords notwithstanding.)

\---------------

“That looks painful!” Kostya pretended not to hear the rather loud whisper, smirking. She switched positions at the barre, right leg down, turn out the right foot and lift the left leg-stretch the hamstrings, curl and uncurl the toes-

“Can she really go up on her toes?”

“I see two little squirts being absolutely shameless!” Kostya sighed, dropping her leg as her hidden audience fled–two little girls from the village. Part of the fortress was open to her people–which included her exercise room. 

“Sakura, really?” The black-haired Titan shrugged, setting down her helm on a nearby table.

“They will be back. And it will teach them to be quieter.” She said. 

“Janet and Eriol’s children, am I correct?” Kostya switched positions with her feet, starting to shuffle through a series of movements.

_First position, second position, third position, back straight, shoulders down, keep the arms moving-fifth position–_

“Mm-hmm. Sneaky, the both of them. If they keep it up and with the right training, they’ll be good scouts by the time they start puberty.” Sakura watched her commander go through the series of dance-like movements. Ballet, their in-resident Cryptarch had told them. Like all Risen, Kostya had no memories of her previous life–at least mentally. Physically however, that was an entirely different story. The Warlord could dance–and it wasn’t just hip jerking or shuffling of feet. Sakura had seen Kostya vault into the air, legs and arms gracefully posed, land on her feet and spin on her toes, twist and contort her body in ways that should (at least at the age she looked like) have put her in the care of the healers. Give the Warlord a sword (or even better, two), and Kostya would tear through enemies in a dance of death–blades spinning and flashing in either silver or Solar-fire blurs. 

Muscle-memory, the Cryptarchs and doctors said. To a degree, every Risen had it. It just varied between all of them just how much their bodies knew.

“We picked up on chatter from Old Moscow.” Kostya turned to face Sakura, one foot behind her head.

“And?” She asked. The younger Risen exhaled, a dark look settling on her features.

“There was another flash-freeze.” Kostya jerked-and immediately lowered her leg. 

“Where?”

“A sector due north of the city. They had some warning and got out in time.” Sakura shifted her weight-resisting the urge to pick at her thumbs. One of her muscle-memories seemed to be a self-harming nervous habit. Kostya exhaled, striding over towards her second-in-command.

“Think that might cause some trouble?” She asked, picking up the towel that she’d dropped on the table.

“If it doesn’t, then that lot are far more delusional than we all thought.” Sakura answered. “The climate’s shifting here-and much faster than what we’re being told, I feel.” Kostya listened, patting herself dry with the towel.

“What do you think?” She asked. Sakura was a Arc Light user-a Striker, apparently that was the new term (if one believed the rumors that the newly forming Last City Risen were trying to classify and define the Light’s abilities). But the younger woman also had an uncanny sense for the weather, and could often be found hip deep in researches and studies of Earth’s past and current climate cycles. Sakura rocked back on her heels at the question, brows furrowed in thought.

“…I think that you need to very seriously consider the notion of leaving.” She finally said. “And…I will eat crow for this–but perhaps it’s time we finally submitted to the Iron Decree. If anything, at least long enough for them to get the Lightless to safety. It’s becoming almost impossible to predict the flash-freezes, and I don’t think we can depend on the upper level wind-currents for protection with how they’ve been shifting.” Kostya exhaled gustily, setting down the towel.

“You all will be safe under the Decree. Me, possibly not so much.” She said dryly. Knowing her mentor, Sakura reached over and withdrew a cigarette from a pack. She offered it to Kostya.

“I doubt Radagest and the newly formed Last City leaders will want to harm you.” Kostya snorted at that, snapping her fingers to light the cigarette. 

“Mmm-hmm.”

“The rumors are all but fact that Felwinter cleaned house for him. He probably wants that Exo dead but at the same time, a service was performed so really, Radagest can’t do anything to him. The same goes for you.” Sakura pointed out. “I mean…okay, they’ll probably want to put you on trial, but for what? War crimes against other Risen? Being a fucking violent psychotic bitch? You’ve been basically doing their job for them–keeping Lightless safe and a good portion of us in check.” Kostya blew out a stream of smoke, sighing.

“…I would want to know more about this Last City, first.” She said. “How they’re governing it. Their outlook and views. I do not want to be told one thing only to find out the exact and total opposite.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to find out, though it might take a while.” Sakura cautioned. “Other side of the world and all that.” Kostya nodded, her Arc-blue eyes meeting Sakura’s obsidian ones.

“How much time do you think we have?” She asked lowly. The Titan shifted position, thinking.

“…We’re almost clear of winter now. If the same patterns hold for the rest of the year…we probably have 8, maybe 9 months. Traditionally the flash-freezes get nasty right around the year-turn. If the weather barrier doesn’t move again like how it did this year, maybe we can get the full year and maybe summer.” Kosyta nodded.

“Send some of us out.” She said. “First to the City, second to start figuring out routes.” Sakura nodded.

“And the Iron Lords?” She asked. Kostya took another drag of her cigarette.

“…Test the waters.” She said. “Give them a gift, and we’ll see how it goes.”


	14. Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy [past]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [past-life] Kostya attends a Christmas Eve party, and encounters the Exo who would become Felwinter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Right. Lotta more theorycrafting in this, I beg your indulgence for artistic liberties. I've had the pet theory--abit yes, there is no evidence but it's cool to imagine--that Destiny's version of the Russian government was a constitutional monarchy. For that you can blame my reading a very good book, The Romanov Prophecy by Steve Berry that offers a rather interesting fictional account of how the royal family could regain power. Also, Felwinter's past life. Enough said, that was too tempting not to pass up.)
> 
> (I also theorize that the Golden Age...couldn't really have been all -that- peaceful. There may have been harmony between the governments, but considering the amount of technology and possible gene manipulation/alternation/etc--I feel would have resulted in the creation of fringe groups that opposed such study/advancements. There may have been more militant and violent organizations similar to the Black Armory that opposed the Traveler and what it had done/brought to Sol. The theorycrafting on Exos is of my own making as well, but I feel that's supported with the limited evidence we have in-game. I also feel it would have made sense for Siddhartha to have hidden himself among the military, and in a position where he at least could move about somewhat freely without drawing -too- much attention.)

\-------------------

For nobility lovers and fanatics, Russia had become a country to watch. Shortly before the Traveler’s arrival in Sol, the country had overwhelmingly chosen to adopt a constitutional monarchy, and restored a Romanov heir to the throne. Fast forward hundreds of years later, Russians (and outsiders) were still mad with curiosity over the Tsar, the living representation of their country’s history being played out before them and on the world stage. The curiosity also extended to anyone who could claim and prove a tie to those ancient (and scandalous in many cases) ancestors of millennia past.

In Kostya’s case, it was annoying and she wanted to kill a reporter. She also wanted to tell the Tsar to fuck off but that was akin to well...disaster for her, her family and her work. Yes she was related to very-very old Russian nobility, but those things weren’t mentioned in the family! They were kept to stories-and yes, a few relics, passed down from parent to child every generation. It was nothing to brag about, nothing to air in public--old habits died hard--

And yet somehow the nosy bitch had not only dug up her family tree, but she’d found an ancestor. A literal, buried, ancestor. Once the DNA tests had gone public there was no hiding the fact.

The press had a field day. So had her coworkers. 

Petrov had to step in and use every bit of influence he’d had to a) protect the bitch b) keep Kostya from ordering a hit c) actually keep Kostya from going after the reporter herself and then d) squash the press attention. As much as he could. 

He couldn’t stave off the Tsar though.

One did not turn down an invitation to the annual Romanov Christmas Eve party. Not unless they were almost dead.

So it was with great irritation (though while getting dressed she’d had a lovely moment with Alexi and Nadya, and had finally passed on the heirlooms) Kostya hid herself among several Christmas trees in one of the royal family’s many winter residences, gowned in a replica traditional Russian (technically French) noblewoman’s gown. A sash with her medals and other honors was draped over her left shoulder and down to her torso, and she wore a glittering diamond and pearl necklace with matching earrings. Her hair was pulled back into a braided bun with jeweled combs. She was supposed to be in the Great Hall, but... _nyet_. Tsar or no Tsar. She’d showed up, smiled, looked pretty, and now was just waiting for a chance to escape. Petrov was just going to have to live with it. Gulping down the rest of the very fancy, expensive (and also French) champagne, Kostya eyed the ballroom. Everything was clear to the left relatively, clear to the right--

“Major-General Kostya Sokolova.”

_Blyad._

“Or would you prefer Doctor Sokolova?” Forcing a smile onto her face, Kostya turned around. An Exo was standing behind her, dressed in dark green formal military dress. The shoulderboards on the outfit were gold with blue edging, with two stars on either board sharing the same color pattern. What was visible of his frame-his hands and his head, were jet black. His optics were orange, with red-mouth lights flashing as he spoke. Kostya froze, taken aback as the Exo gestured.

“If you want to hide better, this space is a dead zone for the cameras.” It said.

“I...thank you.” Shaking her head, Kostya moved closer to the Exo. If she didn’t know any better, the Exo...grinned? Hard to tell with the faceplates.

“You are welcome, though I must be honest. I had two ulterior motives when I picked up on your bio-signal. The first is that there is a sizeable betting pool on you sneaking out tonight.”

“...Petrov.” Kostya muttered. She’d accost him later, and demand part of the winnings if he had any. Exhaling, she smoothed down her dress with one hand and looked at the Exo. For artificial humans, they were rather quite pleasing to the eye. The orange/red lighting combination was a bit sinister, but everyone had their own misstates in fashion. Of course depending on the situation, they were either indentured--to the military, a corporation, or even Clovis Bray. And how they were treated also depended on the situation of their indenture...

Kostya didn’t like it. If she’d been in charge of things, the Exos would be free. (An opinion that she’d continually had to keep bottled in her throat). The best she could do was to treat any Exos she’d worked with as equals (if they’d allowed her). This particular one bore the markings of a lieutenant-general. Probably an assistant to one of the many admirals that were lurking about the celebration.

“Will this cause you problems?” She asked. 

“My handler doesn’t mind my exploring, as long as I don’t get into trouble.” The Exo replied. “Winning the pool, even better.” Kostya’s lips twitched in a grin.

“What was the second motive?” The Exo didn’t immediately respond, reaching inside his robes. Kostya watched as he removed a marker and two...playbills?

“I...have been a fan of you for a very long time.” Kostya felt the breath slam out of her lungs as she stared at the colorful papers that were now being held out to her. On the covers of each--her younger self, decades past. The first was her in the glittery pink/purple gauzy dress of the Sugar Plum Fairy, hair pulled back into a neat bun, paste tiara sparkling. The second was her hair down, a bejeweled headdress, a gown of red/orange/gold with a trail of feathers descending from her hips--the Firebird. The two ballets that she’d been the principal dancer- _prima ballerina_... Unable to stop herself, Kostya reached out. Her fingers gently grazed the pictures.

“...Hardly anyone remembers that I used to dance.” She murmured. 

“I was among the fans that were angry when the Bolshoi said they were letting you go after what happened. Hypocritical that they’d let you go for receiving an artificial ankle, when later on they let Maria Karpova dance, and it was discovered later that she had an artificial knee.” The Exo said. Kostya didn’t reply, still looking at the playbills. Blessedly she could look at her past self now without grief, anger, or regret...now she could revisit her old dream with fondness, and take pride in what she’d at least been able to accomplish. It also helped that she’d been able to watch Karpova and Dimitri get their comeuppances. Karapova had been up to her pretty little neck in scandal, and Dimitri...him dying in hospital, a shell of the man he’d once been. Kostya didn’t know if had been the old gods of Earth or the Traveler that had allowed her vengeance, but she wasn’t going to complain.

“Life happens.” She murmured. “I was able to go to space, see the stars, have my children.” Lifting her head, Kostya gave the Exo a warm smile as she accepted the playbills and marker with her free hand, setting down the wineglass on the nearby windowsill with the other. 

“What’s your name?”

“My designation is Ivan-4.” The Exo replied. He watched as Kostya uncapped the marker. 

“The tabloids have that your granddaughter has begun her own dance training?” He asked. 

“ _Da_ , but schooling first.” Kostya answered. She signed the first playbill, and had just put the tip of the marker to the second when a low rumble shook the room. Pausing, she looked up and around, just as the room shook again.

“What the...” The Exo had put a hand to an audio, the lenses in his optics twirling as a sudden burst of Russian could be heard from a comm-unit on him. The sound of a commotion made Kostya move, peering through the trees. The other guests were being pushed back by the Imperial Guards--the elite military unit that protected the royal family. In the midst of it Kostya spotted the tsarina and one of her daughters being rushed away by a group of Exos. The room shook again-and this time, Kostya could hear shouting and gunfire accompanying it. Behind her, Ivan’s head snapped up, optics whirring again. Nearby a window broke, and Kostya’s gaze snapped towards the sound--

Landing on a small green orb-

Behind her Ivan seized her shoulder, hard enough to break bone and yanked. Kostya started to tumble backward, her hands automatically flying up in defense because she knew what had just arrived in the room--

Her back hitting the marble floor just as a heavy body angled herself on top of her, hands grabbing her head to force it to bend-

Then an explosion.

_-we are coming to you with a breaking story. The terrorist group known as Pure Humanity has attacked the Tsar’s annual Christmas Eve party. The Imperial Guard has currently engaged the attackers, and it is said that the Tsar and his family were able to get to safety before the terrorists broke in. Currently we have no word on any of the many other numerous guests and dignitaries, but all sources right now seem to indicate that they are trapped in the ongoing firefight. We will be bringing more updates as this story unfolds--_


End file.
